


but it's going to be okay (and then it's not)

by DasWarSchonKaputt



Series: Everything Fades To Grey [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: Famous!Blaine AUs, M/M, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-04
Updated: 2014-05-04
Packaged: 2018-01-21 23:16:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1567580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DasWarSchonKaputt/pseuds/DasWarSchonKaputt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s something poisonous about fame, Blaine has long since realised. Growing up like that – always in the public-eye, always on show – isn’t healthy. If it doesn’t force you onto the road of drugs, alcohol and meaningless one-night-stands, it forces you towards ideals and obsessions that are neither wanted nor needed.</p><p>And Blaine has always hated disappointing people.</p><p>(Initially titled Childstar!Blaine AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	but it's going to be okay (and then it's not)

**Author's Note:**

> So remember when I wrote _it started out with a kiss (how did it end up like this?)_ and I said that it was initially part of a five and one fic I wrote, which was basically lots and lots and lots of famous Blaine?
> 
> Yeah. This is the other part of that fic I had written. I was trawling through my harddrive and found this and thought, "You know what? Just post it." So I'm posting it.
> 
> Warnings for this fic include: attempted suicide, shitty parenting, and non-graphic mentions of depression.

His life is both a tragedy and a fairy tale.

Blaine often thinks back to that first tiny role, when all he had to do was cry on command and hug a stranger’s leg, and wonders how different everything would be if he’d just said no. He knows he never would have – his parents’ approval has _always_ been his number one priority – but it’s nice to dream.

He likes to picture himself in every possible timeline.

Sometimes, he’s getting a degree from Harvard – or Stanford, or Yale, or something – and his father’s coming up to him and clapping him on the back and saying, “ _You make me proud, son.”_

Others, he’s graduating from Ohio State, barely scraping through with a liberal arts degree, but when they call his name, it’s _his mother_ who screams the loudest, pride radiating from every fibre of her being.

Sometimes, he doesn’t date at all in high school – doesn’t even attend prom – but his parents don’t care. His mother just pinches his cheek and says, “ _When you meet someone good enough for you, bring them home.”_

Others, he’s going to prom, dressed up next to his date, and his mother is happily snapping pictures of them together, telling him they look _cute._

Sometimes, he comes out in highschool. His parents look at him with smiles in their eyes and thank him for his honesty. _One time_ his mother even strokes his cheek and says, “ _We know, Blaine.”_

Others, he waits until college, and though his parents mouths drop open when he brings home his first boyfriend, his father just claps him on the shoulder and says, “ _If he makes you happy, Blaine, I’m happy for you.”_

_(None of that happens.)_

He doesn’t go to high school – not yet, at least – and he’s not on a fast-track to Harvard, or Yale, or even Ohio State. He doesn’t date, but his parents approach it with the same tired weariness they approach everything about him, like, “ _Maybe you should lower you standards, Blaine,”_ or, “ _Jeffrey from XYZ has a daughter your age, Blaine.”_

He tries hard – harder than he knows he should – to morph himself into the person he thinks his parents want. He doesn’t wear what he wants to wear – bow-ties and sweater-vests and no-socks – and lets them dress him in hoodies and jeans and _normal_ teenclothes _._ He auditions for every piece they ask him too – always put one hundred and ten per cent of his effort into each part – and though he doesn’t get every role, he gets most of them.

He never steps a toe out of line, and though his parents are simultaneously distant and pushy, they’re still there. He may feel like he’s strangling himself each time he tightens a tie around his neck for a charity fundraiser, and he may want to throw-up each time his mother makes a disparaging comment about his body’s weight and shape, but it’s okay.

It’s _okay_.

He’s happy, right? There are hundreds, nay _thousands,_ of kids who would trade places with him in a heartbeat. He’s _Blaine Anderson._ He has more movies to his name than most long-term players of the fame game. He’s the picture on the wall of every teenage girl in the whole of America. He’s _hot._ He’s everything he should be.

Except he’s not.

_He’s gay._

When Blaine realises that he’s gay _,_ it’s not sudden and it’s most certainly not easy. At first, it’s a niggling doubt in the back of his mind, which grows into a fully-fledged suspicion, and then morphs into a crushing, relentless fear, and then, it’s simply the plain, unavoidable, undeniable truth.

It’s a three letter word. It shouldn’t matter so much.

He doesn’t breathe a word of it when he first starts to suspect it about himself. He knows it’s something that he has to be sure of, because this could ruin _everything._

But it’s _okay._

He comes out to his parents when he’s sixteen.

It doesn’t go how he wants at all.

When he looks into his parents eyes, the words barely out of his mouth, he can’t quite bring himself to be shocked that there isn’t even a shred of acceptance or affection lingering there. He watches the emotions cycle through: disbelief, shock, horror—

And then the screaming starts.

It’s loud and shrill, and, “ _What are you thinking, doing this to us, Blaine? You’re going to ruin your career before it’s even really begun!”_

Blaine doesn’t yell back.

He stands, frozen to the spot, eyes fixed on his parents, unable to move even an inch. He’s isolated, he realises. He’s alone in this.

But it’s okay. It has to be.

And then, his father says it. The phrase he never wanted to hear. The phrase he wished – still wishes – he had predicted, in at least one of his daydreams, because then maybe, just maybe, he’d have been prepared for it.

The words slip from his father’s mouth, dripping with casual disgust, and fuelled by cold, white anger.

_“If this is who you are, Blaine, then you are not my son.”_

And Blaine just stands there, letting the words wash over him.

_(He waits for his father to take them back. John Anderson never does.)_

Blaine bites his lip.

It’s okay. He’s okay.

He turns and walks out of the room without another word.

Life continues after that. There’s another film – some mainstream romantic comedy whose title Blaine can’t even remember – and another press cycle and, as per his parents’ wishes, Blaine never says a word about his sexuality to anyone.

And if Blaine doesn’t talk to his parents beyond short questions and curt, one word answers, no one comments. And if Blaine hates the way his parents watch him and the female lead interact – like _the right girl_ will somehow _magically_ fix him – he says nothing.

It’s okay. He’s okay.

And then, one Tuesday night, two days before the premier of the movie, it all gets too much.

In the gloom of his room, lying like a corpse on his bed, Blaine can hear his parents screaming at each other downstairs. It’s morbid curiosity – some masochistic instinct – more than anything else that makes him tune in and _listen_ to the words shot back and forth as his parents try to divvy out the blame for who _turned_ their son _gay._

His mother thinks it’s because his father was too distant. His father thinks it’s because his mother pushed Blaine towards a _faggy_ industry. Blaine just thinks that he can’t take much more of this.

And so Blaine just pushes up off his bed, walks out of the room and locks himself in the bathroom. He roots through the cupboards until he finds his anti-depressants – the ones his mother insisted he needed when she caught him crying for no apparent reason – and rips the cap off.

And then he swallows every last pill.

_(He loses count after pill number fourteen.)_

His throat burns, but the feeling dulls with his vision. There’s a black smog edging closer and closer around his sight, dark and welcoming.

As he falls deeper and deeper under, Blaine reflects that this is all pretty anti-climactic.

If this were a Lifetime Movie – maybe one of his earlier jobs, when all he did was cry on command – there would be banging on his bathroom door. Screams from his parents. Blaine would ignore them, though, and just continue to lie there, still on the floor, waiting for the medicine to kick in.

If this were a Lifetime Movie, his parents would be fighting – fighting with everything they have – to get the door down. To save him. Because, yeah, he’s gay, and he’s a disappointment, but he’s still their son – their _disappointing, pathetic_ son – and they still love him.

But life’s not a movie.

It’s not meant to happen in a structure, not meant to have a moral.

It’s just life.

And no one wants him in theirs.

Everything fades to dark just as his father rips the door off its hinges.

* * *

 

**_America’s Sweetheart Attempts Suicide_ **

_There’s not a soul alive on this planet who doesn’t know Blaine Anderson, if not for his debut performance as Felix Hardey_ (Forget Me Now) _, then for his multiple roles since. He comes across as straight-laced and sweet in interviews, and one of the more stable ex-child stars we see on the screens today._

_Yesterday, at around half past eight in the evening local time, Blaine Anderson was admitted to the Huntington Memorial Hospital for a near fatal overdose on anti-depressant medication. Blaine’s family are requesting that the press and public respect their right to privacy and give the troubled star time to recover…_

* * *

 

When Blaine wakes up in hospital, it’s not to the face of his mother, or to the face of his father. It’s to a cracked white ceiling and a numbness in both his body and his sense of self that just won’t go away.

His mother takes three days to come and visit him.

Even then, there’s something stilted in her interaction with Blaine, like she doesn’t know what to do, so she’s just going to try and pretend like nothing ever happened. At first, Blaine wants to rip out his IV and lunge across the hospital room at her, because something _did_ happen, and she can’t just try and put this behind her.

But Blaine doesn’t. Instead, he just lies there, listening to her tell him that they’re cancelling all his projects until a later date, and that they’re shipping him off to boarding school in _Ohio_ of all places. It’s a great school, she tells him, and it has a zero-tolerance policy on harassment, so he should be safe there even with his _unfortunate life choices._

The phrase makes Blaine’s stomach curl.

She tells him that she loves him before she goes.

Blaine almost regrets taking those pills when he realises how fake she sounds.

* * *

 

**_Blaine Anderson to Take a Break From Filming_ **

_If it was a surprise to hear about Blaine Anderson’s admittance to hospital for attempted suicide, it wasn’t one to hear about the next announcement from his family. According to Fiona Anderson, Blaine’s mother and agent, Blaine will be taking a break from the industry for an “indefinite period of time.”_

_Further details as to Blaine’s future plans were not mentioned, apart from the fact that there are attempts to “restore some sense of normalcy into his life,” and that it is “unlikely [the public] will see him on [their] screens anytime soon.”_

* * *

Dalton’s okay, Blaine guesses. It’s not like Blaine has a lot of experience with schools to compare it to, but it seems pretty decent from all he’s heard. The students are all polite and courteous and at least try to pretend not to stare at Blaine in the hallways, which is better than most, he supposes.

The classes are hard, but that’s okay for Blaine, because honestly? He kind of needs the distraction.

He’s back on anti-depressants – a proper prescription this time – but he has to be issued them in single doses by the school nurse each morning and evening, because the school don’t want any _accidents_ happening _._ That’s okay, though, because Blaine and Ms Lector get on pretty well, and she doesn’t once ask uncomfortable questions about his meds. She also gives pretty good book recommendations, so that’s okay as well.

The school counsellor and Blaine don’t really do much in their one hour weekly sessions except try to out-stare each other. Blaine’s pretty sure he’s losing, but as long as Mr Thalmen doesn’t try and make Blaine talk about what happened, that’s okay too.

Somewhere in between his second and third term at Dalton – when it becomes clear that he’s not leaving for a film any time soon – the other kids stop staring and Blaine starts to make connections. One of the guys in the year above him – this crazy Asian kid named Wes – starts to drag him to these movie nights in the commons, and that’s okay, Blaine supposes, because they start with Harry Potter, and nearly fall over themselves in shock when Blaine refers to each member of the cast by their first names.

Everything’s okay, and then it’s not.

Wes catches him singing in the shower – the one time he doesn’t wait until some unholy hour to get clean – and practically jumps him in glee. It’s extremely awkward, in part because Blaine’s naked and also in part because Wes is grinning like a loon – and what the hell was he doing in the showers fully-clothed, anyway?

Wes drags him to this after-school club – “The Warblers are like rock stars!” Wes enthusiastically declares – and pretty much forces him to try out. Blaine sings for them and he guesses he must sound okay, because the other guys start clapping pretty much the moment his song finishes. Wes threatens to burn his school notes if Blaine doesn’t join and Blaine, ever the pragmatist, does the simple thing and just joins.

Sure, things are okay for a while, until David – one of the other guys on the Warblers’ Council – starts to point out that Blaine may sound great, but he just looks lifeless when he performs. No one has the same power to their voice as Blaine, though, so Blaine still ends up with solos, but the word sticks with him.

That’s what he was going for wasn’t it? When he took all those pills. _Lifeless._

Blaine could say he isn’t sure why he does it, but it would be a lie. He knows _exactly_ why he does it and it’s always been his greatest character flaw.

It’s not because he’s tired of feeling numb – of feeling _okay_ – because he’s not. He doesn’t mind drifting aimlessly – doesn’t mind seeming like some kind of drone – because, _whatever._

It’s because Blaine has always hated disappointing people.

There’s something poisonous about fame, Blaine has long since realised. Growing up like that – always in the public-eye, always on show – isn’t healthy. If it doesn’t force you onto the road of drugs, alcohol and meaningless one-night-stands, it forces you towards ideals and obsessions that are neither wanted nor needed.

He’s insecure, someone will later tell him. Chronically fixated on achieving universal approval. Validation.

_(“It’s cute.”)_

He’s isolated. Alone. Clueless when it comes to normal social conventions.

_(“But I’m here now.”)_

He’s _always, always_ a disappointment to someone.

_(“Never to me.”)_

Blaine gets frustrated at first, because when he tries to emote into the songs, he _can’t._ There’s no emotion there for him to draw on, and even though he stays up until midnight the night before one of their performances trying to force some semblance of passion into the music, he just _can’t._

And then it happens.

Blaine oversleeps, misses both breakfast and his first two lessons. He needs to be down in the commons for his performance in three minutes and needs to pick up his daily dosage of anti-depressants from the school nurse, and it’s all happening at once, until—

It happens.

Blaine’s starred in enough movies to know that this is how it’s always supposed to go. There’s supposed to be some sort of catalyst that starts everything and this – _this is that catalyst._

( _“Open your eyes. You always knew.”)_

And in that moment – that moment of crystallisation, of catalysis, of activation energy, or combustion, of chaos and entropy – Kurt changes everything.

Blaine doesn’t know it then, but it’s true.

Kurt’s a force of nature – a fearless, infallible force of nature. He’s strong where Blaine’s weak – weak where Blaine’s strong. He fits. He’s the one missing puzzle piece.

Blaine isn’t even thinking about meds when he drags Kurt down the short-cut he found on his first day.

Blaine couldn’t care less about trying to emote as he marvels at the way in which Kurt’s hand fits in his own.

Blaine doesn’t realise it until he’s halfway through his performance, eyes fixed on Kurt, that _this – this_ is what David wanted.

For the first time in _months,_ Blaine doesn’t feel okay. He actually feels … kind of great.

It’s confusing at first, and there’s too much going on in his brain for Blaine to really think straight, but he knows right then, as he hits the bridge of _Teenage Dream,_ pouring his heart out to this _complete stranger—_

He can’t ever let Kurt go.

Because Kurt changes everything.

It’s like… Like everything in his life was just preparation for this event. Backstory. Character development.

And then there’s Kurt.

_(“God, I love you.”)_

Kurt, who knows fashion and musicals, and best of all, seems to intuitively know Blaine. Kurt, who takes everything in his stride, who forces himself to stand each time he’s beaten down, who is _unbreakable._

Kurt who makes sure that Blaine never has to feel just _okay_ again.

Kurt who puts the fun back into the performance for Blaine. Kurt who makes Blaine feel _alive_ and _grounded_ and _safe._ Kurt who’s unwavering in his support of Blaine. Kurt who’s nigh-indestructible.

It’s after that performance – that life-changing, reality-altering, paradigm-shifting performance – that Blaine starts to get better. It’s not on anyone else’s terms and maybe that’s not a smart choice, but he does it alone and for himself.

It’s kind of the first time he’s done that and it’s maybe just a lot better than okay.

He starts to palm the anti-depressants, starts to _engage_ with his classes, starts to laugh along with Wes and the others when they watch comedies together. He starts to text Kurt incessantly. Sometimes, he says random shit that neither of them understand, but Kurt always seems to understand _Blaine_ and that’s not something Blaine will ever give up.

Sure, it’s not always easy, and it’s never okay, but it is better. Singing – surprisingly enough – helps. He almost pities the Warblers – and then Kurt, when he starts to sing to him too – because he starts to use music as a way to deal with his personal problems. David eventually admits that the Warblers find listening to him terrifying, in a good, _holy shit that was intense_ kind of way.

He gives his mother a call one day and isn’t surprised when she won’t let him talk to his father. It makes his blood boil a bit, but he manages to survive the phone call without wanting to kill himself, so he considers it a victory, no matter how minor. He celebrates by hugging Kurt, who practically melts at the physical contact.

After that, he calls his brother, and even though they haven’t seen each other in a while – haven’t talked to each other in just under that – Cooper still seems to care, _genuinely care,_ and that’s a step above his parents, so.

Blaine makes the mistake of asking Cooper about his work – he’s a freelance journalist in San Francisco – and then has to listen as Cooper raves about this great piece he’s doing – on a lady who shut a cat in a trash can, or some such shit. It’s part way through the description of the charges being levelled against the woman when Blaine blurts it out.

“I’m gay.”

Silence, then—

“ _Shit.”_ Cooper pauses, then, he says, _“That’s why you did it, isn’t it?”_

Blaine stills a bit, remembering why he never liked talking to Cooper before. His older brother’s perceptive – calls it his spidey-sense – and the fact that he saw right through Blaine always unnerved him.

“Yeah,” he admits.

“ _Did Dad say something to you, Blaine? Is that why?”_ Cooper’s tone has taken on a fiercely protective edge, one which makes Blaine fill with warmth.

“It’s okay, Cooper,” he says, but he knows his voice cracks. “I’m okay.”

“ _It’s not okay, Blaine,”_ Cooper says. _“And neither are you. You’re fantastic, okay? Terrific, marvellous, superb,_ brilliant _. No matter what anyone else says.”_

“You’ve got your synonym function open on Word, don’t you?” Blaine quips back, trying to make his voice sound light, but instead it comes out heavy and rough.

 _“I_ always _have my synonym function open on Word,”_ Cooper replies easily. “ _It’s pretty … one second … amazing, incredible, miraculous…”_

“You can stop now, Cooper, I get the idea.”

Cooper sighs down the phone. _“Blaine, it’s_ all right. _I love you, Squirt.”_

“I…” Blaine stumbles over the words. “I love you too, Coop.”

_“Blaine..? Blaine? Aw, shit. Are you crying? Shit, shit, shit. What did I say? I’m shit at this whole sentimentality stuff, okay?”_

“I’m okay, Coop, okay?”

“ _Okay.”_

And after that, mostly everything comes together for Blaine.

He doesn’t get his parents back, but he does start acting again.

It’s better this time round. More intense. Pushing the emotions through himself and out into his actions feels strangely intimate now, like when he dons his character and strolls in front of the cameras, he’s _vulnerable._

It’s better this time round, because Blaine gets doesn’t just feel like he’s moving on an automated set of controls anymore. It’s better because he starts to actually get things out of this mess.

He gets Cooper, he gets Dalton and, best of all, _he gets Kurt._

Kurt who loves him.

It takes him a while to start with, Blaine knows. A while to actually persuade himself that Kurt’s real – and that Blaine’s allowed to have Kurt. But eventually, after days and days of persuasion from Kurt, everything clicks into place.

And then, Blaine takes hold of Kurt’s hand and never wants to let it go.

“I’m not ever giving this up,” he tells Kurt.

Kurt just smiles at him. “You won’t have to.”

It’s a tragedy and a fairy tale all at once, because Kurt rescued Blaine just enough for Blaine to rescue himself.

Almost Lifetime Movie worthy, Blaine thinks.


End file.
